The Intrepid Incident
by PhyrexianMeatdog
Summary: Three Zealots witness the destruction of their home by a merciless band of Terran nomads, and vow revenge. Rated PG-13 for violence and mild gore.


**THE INTREPID INCIDENT**

A short story

Case 376-474K:

Planet 4781G45, Alpha Prima

Three Zealots stood on a cliff overlooking their burning homeland. Huge blue flames erupted from what had once been their Nexus. The next explosion tore apart the base of the structure, lashing out debris and soot and ash. With the destruction of the base, the top half of the building simply fell, demolishing itself as it struck the ground. A fiery ball of light overtook the remnants and where the city center once was, a smoking crater remained. In the sky, shadows of Terran battleships danced across the sky, spewing fire and lightning down on the now-defenseless Protoss base. A squadron of Corsairs flew from the last remaining Stargate and poured their lasers onto defenseless Dropships. Wraiths took to the skies, moving forth from the underbellies of the great Battlecruisers, and the Corsairs turned to combat their new enemy. But six Corsairs against hundreds upon thousands of Wraiths is little contest. A few simply exploded from the hellfire of missiles, while others tried to crash-land, with flames coming out of their engines, and flew into mountains and trees and oftentimes, just the ground.

A Pylon that supported a nearby Templar Archives toppled to the ground as battalions of Marines and Firebats, coupled with Siege Tanks covering their rear, roared into the former base. A group of Valkyries screeched by overhead and destroyed three escaping Shuttles. At this, one of the Zealots winced. "We cannot simply stand here and watch our brethren die! Can we not fight? Lend our hand to the war effort?"

"Nay," replied a second. "Would you die in vain?"

"Gladly, if the time comes!" the first retorted.

"The time will come," said the second. "It is not now."

"And who are you to control our destiny?" The third butted in. "Are we not to 'die for Aiur?'"

"This is not Aiur!" the second shouted in frustration. "So shall it be that we will die today, but not here! We must wait until the time is right, and then we will strike."

The first advanced. "Would you mind letting us in on this plan of yours?"

The second met his gaze. "When the time is right."

"Jax! Hazz! Calm yourselves!" the third stepped in. Jax backed away. "Must I always be your mediator?" the third continued. "Can we not simply trust Hazz's judgement? He has not steered us wrong in the past."

"He has steered _me_ wrong." Jax replied. "And you are not to be talking, Sevre."

Hazz sighed. "Trust me."

"Trust you? Trust you? Must we always trust you?" Jax exclaimed. "I have trusted you many times over, and each time we exit a battlefield, tending to our wounds, but still not unable to fight! You always retreat when we should press ahead. And now what? There's no more to retreat to!"

"Which is why we won't be retreating this time," Hazz replied. "Now, follow me. We can set up camp, and I will tell you my plan."

The trio departed the cliff, where the wreckage of their homeland was littered. The last thing Sevre saw before he too walked was a giant Terran command center landing at the base of what was once his Nexus.

The gargantuan battlecruiser patrolled the eastern side of the new Terran colony. The name emblazoned on its side read "Intrepid." Lieutenant Jordan Henshaw walked through the brisk titanium corridors to the bridge, where the captain was stationed. He had a long time to think about what might be in the envelope he had been sent to deliver, since he was posted in Engineering, all the way across the ship. Depending on which corridor he chose, he could also either have a scenic view of all the carnage the Terran Dominion had left in their wake, or the mountainous ravines that the battlecruiser was passing over in its search for survivors. He chose carnage, simply because his wife was in the infantry, abusing her duty as a Medic to remain close to his side on combat missions. Tonight he would be moved to ground command, which meant a visit to his dear Roxanne.

Before he knew it, he was at the entrance to the bridge. He took a deep breath and steeled himself – there were rumors about the new Captain. Talk that she(!) was ruthless, fearless, a great fighter, and an amazing lover. He reminded himself of his marriage and put the envelope in his ring hand, and stepped through the door. It hissed, and she was waiting for him. All the stories were true. She had a beautiful face and distinguished breasts, a thin waistline and unforgiving hips. Her mouth was a bright crimson, and her voice crashed through his reverie like a bullwhip: "Lieutenant!"

He blinked and realized that everyone on the bridge was staring at him; he held up the envelope. "Message for you, sir." Though thoroughly embarrassed, and knowing his face was red, he maintained his military tone. After handing her the message he saluted and turned to leave.

"Wait." She said. "I'd like to read this message aloud."

He gulped. She read:

_Dear Captain Monroe;_

_I would like you to accompany me to dinner tonight at nineteen hundred hours. I am in cabin 14, deck C, engineering section. Yours truly,_

_Lt. Jordan Henshaw_

He was shocked, appalled, thrilled, and horrified all at the same time. To his surprise, she did not even blink.

She looked up, and around the room. "Who is responsible for this? Confess!"

No one raised their hand, moved a muscle, or indeed, breathed.

"I swear, whoever wrote this, if they do not admit to it now, I will tear you limb-from-limb!"

Slowly, three men at the communications station raised their hand. She smiled. "A nice practical joke. Give those three a round of applause, and then someone send them to the brig for the day." There was a mix of scattered clapping and coughing, and then security took them away. She turned to Jordan. "As for you…" She winked. "I'll see you at nineteen hundred." Several people whistled and a few laughed. "And now all of you, back to work!" She ordered, and without hesitation, everyone resumed what they had been doing. Jordan gulped, and left to arrange a dinner.

The fire burned, and Jax threw some more twigs on it. It reached higher into the sky, but in failing on reaching it, resumed its low, rhythmic vibrations. Sevre was recharging his Psi blades, and Hazz was sleeping. Jax sat. "Do you think his plan will work?" he asked Sevre, making sure to keep his voice low.

"He never fails," Sevre answered. "Is that not why he was the General?"

Jax shrugged. "He couldn't forestall the human assault."

Sevre shook his head. "It was not his plan, it was the Consulate."

Jax nodded. "Yes…that blithering old fool was to be the end of us anyway." He sighed. "What has our civilization come to?"

"Something we will still fight to protect," Hazz answered.

"When did you awaken?" Jax asked.

"When you sat on my head." He replied.

Sevre laughed, and ignited his blades. They glowed a dark blue, and reminded them all of what was to come.

"Do you often invite high-ranking officers to your cabin?" the Captain asked. "Or am I the first?"

Jordan smiled, and inside he was mortified. "You're the first, Captain."

"Please," she replied. "No formalities are needed here. You may call me Jesse, or Miss Monroe if you insist on being a gentleman." She took a sip of the wine. He had arranged a nice dinner for them, indeed, one of the best. Wine, from the ship's cook himself, and overcooked chicken. On a ship that size, it was a delicacy. "I see you actually went to the trouble of planning a dinner for me."

"I felt it was necessary, Cap—Miss Monroe." Jordan replied, and ate another piece of chicken.

"Well, either way, I think this is a rather nice way to get introduced to the crew, don't you think?"

"Ah, yes," he said. "Ingenious."

She laughed. "No need for flattery. I get enough of that on the bridge."

"Yes, Miss Monroe." He said, and drank.

"So…" she said. "Is it often this difficult to keep a conversation going, Jordan?"

He looked up. "Ahem…well…"

"Don't tell me," she said. "I actually don't think I want to know."

He smiled, and glanced at the clock.

"Am I boring you?" she asked, pretending to be offended.

"No, no," he said. "It's just that I go down to the surface in about fifteen minutes."

"I could postpone that, you know…extend it to the next launch?" she said in a low tone.

He got up and put his napkin on his plate. "Actually, no, that's okay."

She stood too. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, I swear—" he stammered.

"Lieutenant." She warned.

"Well, it's just that, well," he said quickly. "I have my wife on the surface."

"Ah." She said, and sat down. "Well, let's finish our meal then, shall we?"

He nodded. "Yes…yes, let's."

Ten minutes later, Jordan was saddled up and strapped into a Dropship along with five marines and two SCVs. The pilot yelled "Five minutes to launch!" and he swallowed. The last twenty minutes had been the longest in his life, and he was glad he was leaving the battlecruiser behind for good. He glanced out the window and saw smoke rising from a spot in the cliffs. He pointed it out to the pilot. "I don't know," she said. "Maybe it's one of ours." He nodded, but he wasn't reassured. At all.

They left the docking bay behind, and as the roar of the battlecruiser's mighty engines faded away, he faintly saw three figures running across the plain. He couldn't make out their features at first. But then he saw the blades.

The Dropship was still in the air when Hazz leaped onto the side. The ship bucked and swayed, but Hazz slammed his Psi blades into the side of the craft and held on. The ship spun in midair, weighted by the heavy Protoss warrior, and he carefully made his way to the cockpit. Jax and Sevre watched from below as Hazz moved to the window. The woman in the cockpit screamed, and he broke the window apart. Shards of broken glass flew through the sky, and somewhere in the Terran camp, a woman screamed. Blaring through the night, the alert played into everyone's ears, but not in time for the marines inside the craft to get out their weapons; Hazz was too quick for them. After shoving his left foreblade through the head of the pilot, he tossed her out the open window and proceeded inside after turning on the autopilot. Two workers were scrambling with the controls, and he simply kicked them through the open hatch. Five marines were struggling to their feet as well, and he sliced their heads off at his leisure, finally, the floor stained dark red and his blade the color of blood, he turned to the final passenger.

"Please, don't kill me!" Jordan cried at the looming Zealot. "I'll do anything, I swear!" The Zealot seemed to hesitate, and it glanced around the interior of the ship. All the seats and the tile floor was dark red. Something round was knocking against his foot, and he dared not look to see what it was. The giant Protoss grunt ignited its blades once again, and Jordan Henshaw felt his head slide off his shoulders, and his last sight was of his decapitated corpse, flailing in the seat, blood spurting from the base of his neck. It was pain beyond imagination, and then it was…nothing.

Hazz strode into the pilot's chair, which was damp with human secretion. He flicked off the autopilot switch and flew into the hills where Jax and Sevre were waiting. He hovered low on the ground, and once the two were fully inside, he took off.

Jax poked his head in. "So, which plan are we going to implement?"

"Boarding party!" Sevre yelled from behind them.

Hazz smiled. "Listen to him, he knows what he's saying."

Jax nodded, sheepish. "Okay."

The official report of the "Intrepid Incident" states that _A grievous engineering error caused the malfunction of the battlecruiser's steering system, resulting in a mis-plotted course into the heart of the Terran colony, killing all those aboard and on the ground. _The classified report, viewed only by Emperor Mengsk and his advisors, tells of what actually happened:

_Three-Zealot boarding party battled their way onto the bridge of the battlecruiser "Intrepid" and upon seizing control of the bridge, locked themselves inside and drove the battlecruiser into the Terran command center on Alpha Prima, Beta Colony 4781G45. All aboard and on the ground were killed. The Zealot's bodies are missing and assumed dead._

This closes the report of the "Intrepid Incident." This report is highly classified. Unauthorized personnel who read this file will be terminated.


End file.
